


How A Log Saved A Kitten

by Aaron_The_8th_Demon



Series: A Combination Of Skill And Luck [10]
Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Cuteness overload, Fluff and Crack, Friends to Lovers, M/M, The Author Regrets Nothing, This fic is fucking ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:14:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24879814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaron_The_8th_Demon/pseuds/Aaron_The_8th_Demon
Summary: Harry went to bed worried last night - he hadn’t seen or heard from Dale all day, which was unusual, and now he’s waking up to immediately remember that he’s worried. He turns off his alarm clock and rubs his face, and then there’s a tiny noise next to his left ear that he can’t identify. Something warm and very soft bumps his cheek.Harry looks and finds a small black kitten on his bed.It headbutts him a second time, then licks the end of his nose with its little pink tongue and goesmewat him in a tiny shrill voice. And Harry is immediately in love with it for reasons he can’t explain.
Relationships: Dale Cooper/Harry Truman
Series: A Combination Of Skill And Luck [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1617793
Comments: 16
Kudos: 34





	How A Log Saved A Kitten

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zigCARNIVOROUS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zigCARNIVOROUS/gifts).



Harry went to bed worried last night - he hadn’t seen or heard from Dale all day, which was unusual, and now he’s waking up to immediately remember that he’s worried. He turns off his alarm clock and rubs his face, and then there’s a tiny noise next to his left ear that he can’t identify. Something warm and very soft bumps his cheek.

Harry looks and finds a small black kitten on his bed.

It headbutts him a second time, then licks the end of his nose with its little pink tongue and goes  _ mew _ at him in a tiny shrill voice. And Harry is immediately in love with it for reasons he can’t explain.

“Hey, little fella,” he smiles, sitting up slowly and trying not to startle it. “How’d you get in here?”

_ Mew! _

Harry has never seen a cat with eyes this color… most cats have green or yellow or blue eyes, but this kitten has eyes which are green and brown at the same time. They could almost be a person’s eyes if they didn’t have a slit-pupil. He scoops up the tiny ball of fluff into his palm and it licks the pad of his thumb in reply, lets him carry it into the kitchen. It seems to be a very agreeable cat, and that by itself is weird, because “agreeable” is not a word Harry would usually pick to describe these animals with.

That changes immediately when he sets it down. He’s trying to make himself a fresh pot of coffee for breakfast when the kitten very deliberately pushes the old grounds off the counter to spill all over the floor. When Harry goes to clean up the mess, it hisses at him and swats with its little paws until he backs off. This is just too strange. He’s never seen an animal behave this way, so purposeful and focused. It spreads the grounds more or less evenly across the floor, then starts dragging a paw through them to make lines. Harry by now has no idea what kind of fever dream he must be in watching a kitten, which popped up out of nowhere on his bed, slowly and carefully draw the word TYPEWRITER through coffee grounds on his kitchen floor.

The kitten looks up at him.  _ Mew! _

“Uh… okay,” Harry agrees, mostly because he has no idea what the hell else he can do. “I have one at work, just let me… eat first…” He’s talking to a cat. A cat that can write words in English. “Dammit, Coop, where are you when I need you to interpret this crazy stuff?” he mutters to himself.

The kitten gives a long and almost indignant-sounding meow when he says that.

“What?”

_ Mew! _

Harry shakes his head. “I gotta find him so he can explain this,” he grumbles. Nobody else can possibly give him any answers.

When he finally has coffee, the kitten jumps up on the table and tries to drink out of his mug. Harry chuckles and gently pushes it back because he’s concerned it’ll burn its little mouth on the steaming liquid inside. This gets him an almost cranky meow and he just laughs some more.

“Y’know, there’s a friend of mine who you’d get along real well with,” he grins, taking a sip.

The kitten rubs its face on his knuckles and purrs before stealing a bite of scrambled egg off his plate. Harry scoops a couple forkfuls directly onto the table for it and then eats the rest himself, carefully watching his coffee mug. Once they’re both fed he gets dressed in his work uniform, shaves, and then puts the cat in his shirt pocket for the drive to the station. It sits there peacefully and purrs, rubbing its face against his chest.

“Morning, Lucy.”

_ Mew! _

“Good morning, Sheriff… why is there a cat in your pocket?”

“Good question,” Harry says helplessly. “Can I have some typewriter paper?”

“Okay, I have some right here.”

Harry closes the door of his office because this is just ridiculous and he has no idea what to say if anyone asks what’s going on. He puts his typewriter on his desk and feeds the paper into it, then sets the kitten there too and waits. It immediately tries pressing on a key with its paw, but there’s not enough weight or strength to push down and work the machine. It tries again, and again after that, then swats the typewriter with its miniature claws and hisses with obvious frustration.

“Uh, here,” Harry says, because this cat can  _ clearly _ understand what he says, “just… show me which ones to press, and I’ll do it.”

And that’s exactly what happens. Harry’s so confused by this that he doesn’t even notice which letters he’s tapping, so when the kitten stops and meows at him he looks up and finally sees what’s been said.

_ harry it’s me _

“What? What do you mean, it’s you?”

The kitten meows at him and then very pointedly takes a bite of the donut he brought into his office with the stack of typewriter paper. Cats don’t eat donuts, and they don’t drink coffee, and they sure as hell don’t type.  _ Coffee and donuts. _ Harry finally puts it together.

“Coop?” he whispers.

_ Mew! _

They tap more keys together and things make just slightly more sense.

_ i woke up like this yesterday morning. i don’t understand how it happened or how to undo it. it took me the entire day to walk to your home and i gained entry through your bathroom window. _

“Well… maybe we should ask Hawk,” is all Harry can come up with.

Dale lies on his belly on Harry’s desk, tail flicking lightly and chin on his paws. Harry just stares at him while he does that, mentally reeling because he’s just realized his best friend is now a small animal. Somehow he never expected anything to seem crazier than the Laura Palmer case, but this is right up there.

A knock on his office door.

“Yeah?”

“Morning,” says just the man he wants to see while opening the door and coming in. “Margaret just called about… why do you have a kitten?”

“Hawk, that’s Coop.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not a bit.”

_ Mew! _

“What did Margaret want?” Harry asks, rubbing the backs of his fingers down Dale’s spine out of instinct. He does make for a very cute cat, after all. Plus he’s purring. He can’t hate it that much.

“She said her Log needs to speak with us about something.”

“Us being…?”

“You and Cooper.”

“Well… y’know what, fine. Maybe the damn Log knows why Coop is stuck like this,” Harry grumps.

He scoops up Dale to be tucked back into his shirt pocket and the three of them head out to his truck for a ride up to the trailhead. This is all so ridiculous. His best friend is small enough to fit in one hand and they’re about to go talk to part of a dead tree to find out the reason for it. Things like this make Harry really glad he’s not some famous person, because he has no idea how any of the crazy incidents in his life would  _ ever _ be able to get explained in a biography.

It’s about a fifteen minute hike up the trail to Margaret’s cabin, and she’s sitting on her porch holding the Log when they get there. Immediately, she looks at Dale.

“My Log noticed this yesterday,” she comments.

_ Mew! _

“Margaret… how do we fix him? Get him back to normal?” Harry asks.

“Tea first,” she announces, then gets up and leads them inside.

It’s pretty fortunate that Dale likes tuna fish anyway, because she opens and drains a can of it for him and sets it on the table. Harry deposits him beside it and he immediately starts eating, stuffing his little kitten-face right into the can. The three of them sit down and Margaret pours them all cups of tea.

“I woke up and he was on my pillow,” Harry confesses. “I guess he got in through one of my windows. I almost thought I was going crazy with the way he was acting.”

“My Log would like you to know that there are other spirits lingering in these woods,” she comments. “It’s not only the owls.”

“So one’a them did this to him?” Harry guesses.

“Indirectly,” Margaret says in kind of a vague tone. “The potential was already in him… my Log believes that in a way, he did it to himself.”

Dale looks up from his can and hisses.

“So how do we undo it?”

She looks right at Dale, stroking her fingertips along the Log’s bark. “You’re holding something inside that should be out in the daylight. Hiding a seed in a cupboard keeps it as a seed, but planting it in the sunshine allows it to bloom into something wonderful. You have no excuse. The truth deserves to be told.”

Dale sits and cries an absolutely pathetic little meow at her, clearly protesting.

“The truth deserves to be told,” she repeats firmly.

_ Mew! _

He sits and scratches the side of his head with his back paw. It makes Harry wonder how he’s just  _ being a cat _ like this even though he’s actually a person.

“How long will it take for him to get back to normal?”

“My Log says that’s entirely up to him.”

“Great,” Harry grumbles.

“How’d you figure out it’s him, anyway?” Hawk wonders.

“With a typewriter and a donut,” he answers seriously.

Harry scoops Dale back into his shirt pocket when they leave, and he can feel the purring on his chest. Apparently his friend likes being carted around like this for some reason. Harry doesn’t mind either, has never minded Dale being in his personal space. Back in his office again however many minutes later, Harry sets Dale on his desk by the typewriter.

“Alright, let’s hear it, what’s this ‘truth’ Margaret was going on about?”

Dale looks at Hawk instead and starts meowing relentlessly. When Harry reaches for the typewriter, he hisses instead.

“Guess he wants me to do it,” Hawk shrugs. “How does this work?”

“Uh, he’ll show you which keys to hit, it’ll take awhile for him to get it all written up. Here, you two can do this in the conference room.”

Dale and Hawk spend pretty much the rest of the day in the conference room, the sound of slow typing lightly drifting through the hall and front lobby of the station while Harry sits in his office and does the usual amount of answering calls and filling out paperwork. It’s right before the time when he normally goes home when Hawk comes into his office, holding paper and Dale.

“He wanted me to ask you not to read it until tomorrow when he’s less embarrassed about it,” Hawk says, setting both objects on the desk.

Dale immediately bounds over to lie down on Harry’s wrist, stopping him from writing anything else.

“Okay. Uh. You wanna go have dinner, Coop?”

_ Mew! _

Harry takes Dale home and feeds him a can of chicken, and afterwards they sit and watch tv on the couch for awhile. Harry can’t help the impulse to pet Dale, and eventually they give up any pretenses so that Dale can sit in his lap for a good scratching behind the ears. He’s so soft and fluffy and Harry’s starting to seriously consider getting a pet cat once Dale is back to normal.

Going to bed later, Harry drifts off with a small warm lump between his ribs and his left arm…

…and then wakes up the next morning to his alarm and the realization that he’s snuggled up to his best friend,  _ another man, _ who despite being under the blankets and everything is obviously one hundred percent naked.

With the alarm going off, both of them roll onto their backs and groan almost in sync with each other. Harry slaps his hand around randomly until he finds the stupid clock and silences it, then rubs his face with his palms.

“Morning, Coop.”

“Good morning, Harry.” Then he looks surprised and opens his eyes all the way, raising both hands up where he can see them before immediately relaxing back into the mattress. “Oh, thank god.”

“Here, I’ll get up and make some coffee… you can borrow some clothes until I can get you back home. Socks are top drawer, shirts are third down, pants are second up from the bottom.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

Harry’s frying up a bunch of sausage and French toast when Dale ambles sleepily into the kitchen wearing his clothes. He immediately has to stop looking so that he’s not thinking about how much he likes seeing that, because… it’s just  _ weird. _ There’s no reason for him to like it.

“Coffee’s on the counter for you.”

“Thanks… I borrowed a pair of your underwear as well, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Just wash them before you give them back,” Harry shrugs. “So what’s it like being a cat?”

“Extremely frustrating. Felines lack a similar enough vocal structure in their throats to have the capacity for human speech and you and Margaret both fed me cold canned food, which I didn’t particularly enjoy or appreciate.”

“You were so cute, though,” he teases.

“That stands to reason,” Dale nods, apparently completely missing the humor.

They sit down and eat.

“I hope I wasn’t too troublesome for you, Harry.”

“No, not at all. I didn’t mind. How come you had Hawk type up your… thing yesterday?”

Dale starts to turn red and looks down at his food.

“Because my confession is directly related to you and it would’ve been much too difficult to convey it if you were the one interpreting. However, Hawk was almost certainly already aware of everything I had to say, and he also had no interest in judging me for it.”

“Yeah, he’s good for that,” Harry agrees.

They actually head for the station instead of to Dale’s house because he apparently  _ really _ wants to just get this over with, and he looks more and more uncomfortable as they drive. Finally they’re in Harry’s office. He picks up the page and starts to read.

_ deputy hawk, if you will kindly inform harry that i would prefer him to look at this tomorrow when my embarrassment has subsided to some degree, i will greatly appreciate it. _

Jesus, no wonder it took them all day to get this written up.

_ dear harry _ _  
_ _ i must first confess that what i’m about to impart to you has been bothering me for some time now. we have known each other for several months and from the very beginning you have been an excellent friend who i hold very near to my heart. you exemplify all of the most charming and good aspects of this town and are in fact at the top of the list of reasons why i chose to take up residence here. once i have regained my original form and subsequently the ability to speak, i will be happy to expound on the details as to why if you’re interested, but the fact remains that i am deeply and hopelessly in love with you. i can only hope that this information isn’t too jarring or upsetting for you and that it won’t negatively impact our friendship in the case that, as i suspect, my feelings are not returned. i would also like to apologize for not informing you sooner. every time i went to attempt an explanation, something would come up or i would lose my nerve. in part this may be explained by the fact that every single one of my relationships prior to this point has ended disastrously and i was unwilling to inflict this curse on you. _

The text ends and Harry very, very slowly raises his eyes. Dale is staring at the carpet with his hands folded in the small of his back. Harry’s never seen him look so…  _ guilty. _

“Coop, I… I don’t know what to say,” he admits.

“Understandable.”

“I’m not mad, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, I didn’t expect you to be.”

This is the most unhappy Dale’s ever been in the time Harry’s known him. But… he has no reason to be. Harry’s been stomping down dumb impulses and feelings that made him uneasy for awhile now, most recently just a few minutes ago in his kitchen when he saw his friend dressed in his clothes. He barely even realized he was doing it until now. Harry tries to come up with something to say, anything that will make Dale feel better, a reassurance.

“You waiting on me to make this into a big deal?” Harry asks slowly. “Because I wasn’t planning on it.”

“No,” Dale almost whispers. “I’m waiting for the inevitable moment where you tell me this doesn’t change anything and we can still be friends.”

Harry moves away from his desk and for once, it’s him stepping into Dale’s space and not the other way around. The piece of typewriter paper has been left in the spot he picked it up from.

“Coop, listen to me.” Harry reaches out to touch Dale’s hands. “I can’t say that.” He runs his palms up Dale’s arms, wrapped in one of his own plaid shirts - a light cotton one for the summertime, worn thin and soft over many years. (Maybe he should ask Dale to keep wearing this shirt.) “Because this  _ does _ change things for us.” His hands ride all the way up to cradle the sides of Dale’s face. “Here’s why…” And Harry leans in to kiss him.

Dale tastes like coffee, which he kind of expected. It’s very soft, there’s nothing to panic about. Fingers run almost shyly through the hair on the back of his head, and he never thought Dale could be shy about anything… shows what he knows.

“And here I was led to believe you had no interest in me,” Dale murmurs against his mouth.

“Apparently I  _ did _ but was too dumb to realize it,” Harry answers dryly.

“You’re not dumb, Harry.”

“Let’s agree to disagree.”

Harry kisses him a second time, much more intently. Their arms slip around each other’s shoulders and Harry walks him backwards to press him into one of the doors on his gun cabinet. How could he have not known until now that he needed this? That he needs Dale? Both of their eyes close and for a long, perfect moment, Harry just gets to feel him. Like they’re the only things that exist in the whole universe.

Then Dale pulls back suddenly, even with his movements being restricted by being sandwiched between Harry and an object.

“We have an audience,” Dale informs him.

Harry opens his eyes and looks - they left the door of his office open. Oops.

“Get outta here, this isn’t a tv program,” Harry barks at Hawk, Andy and Lucy, who are watching intently like it’s  _ Invitation to Love. _ He moves away just long enough to shut the damn door, then goes right back to Dale. “I’m sorry for being so thick,” Harry murmurs, kissing one corner of his jaw. “So how about, to make up for it…” He kisses Dale’s chin next. “…we get a pie from Norma after work…” The other corner of Dale’s jaw. “…and then pick up some steaks…” The end of Dale’s nose. “…and we grill them up together out back of my place?”

“That sounds fantastic,” Dale grins. “I would love to come home with you, Harry.”

**Author's Note:**

> Presumably Cooper would consider it a waste of time to make Hawk press the uppercase button on the typewriter.
> 
> All my Twin Peaks fics can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=127943&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Aaron_The_8th_Demon).
> 
> Comments are welcomed and encouraged :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[FANART] Cat Dale](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24941143) by [DovahCourts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DovahCourts/pseuds/DovahCourts)




End file.
